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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27747532">King of the Underworld</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheena_Stalwart/pseuds/Sheena_Stalwart'>Sheena_Stalwart</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Hollanders - Fandom, tom holland - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aftercare, Alpha Male, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Ancient Greek Religion &amp; Lore Fusion, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arranged Marriage, BDSM, Bad Boys, Demon Powers, Demons, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Fate &amp; Destiny, Fluff and Smut, Forced Marriage, Gentle Sex, Hades Arc, Happy Ending, Immortal Love, Immortals, Inaccurate Ancient Greek Religion &amp; Lore, Inspired by Hades and Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion &amp; Lore), Jealousy, Lore Fusion, Love, Lovers, Mating Cycles/In Heat, No cheating, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Power Play, References to Ancient Greek Religion &amp; Lore, Romantic Soulmates, Rough Sex, Royalty, Slow Build, Slow Romance, Smut, Soulmates, Tender aftercare, Tom Holland as Hades, True Love, True Mates, Underworld, Witch!Reader, Witchcraft, Witches</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 20:15:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,744</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27747532</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheena_Stalwart/pseuds/Sheena_Stalwart</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom is the King of the Underworld. Ruler of the dead, damned and demons. Covens of witches and warlocks, have long since separated from the Underworld kingdom. However, when mortals start hunting witches the Council of Covens is forced to make a deal with the King of the Underworld for protection and powers. The pact is sealed with a marriage between Tom and a witch of his choosing. Many witches in the hierarchy were willing to sacrifice themselves, give up their Earthly lives to be bound to the Underworld forever to save the covens. But he turned them all down. Instead he chose (Y/N) a recently excommunicated outcast that wanted nothing to do with any of it. <br/>Content warning for explicit material. No rape. If you like my Soulmate series and The Prince this story borrows a lot of themes from those tales. What can I say? I like writing about niche fantasies! So, why do I always write about forced arranged marriages? I don’t know either!… What’s up with my obsession of absolute power monarchies? Likely something to do with the power-dynamic imbalance? Will there also be weird soulmate-bounding-esque shit? - probably! Will it be dark, violent with a lot of sexual tension? HELL YEAH.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hades/Reader, Tom Holland (Actor) &amp; Reader, Tom Holland (Actor)/Reader, Tom Holland (Actor)/You, Tom Holland/Original Character(s), Tom Holland/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>55</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. A New Life</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I feel like a boxer with both my hands wrapped in white gauze bandages. The slice across both palms still stings. And magic doesn’t work on wounds made by the stygian blade. It’s hard to believe that just last week I was applying for a new job- not even aware of the Council’s pact with the King of the Dead- and today I was sacrificed as the King’s new plaything to save the people that rejected me. </p><p>I pace around the giant closet. My bare feet patter on the cold obsidian tile. I was sent here to pick an outfit for the “reception” but I can hardly focus on the gaudy garments with the tornado of “what ifs” swirling in my brain. I’m technically alive but effectively dead. No more sunshine. No more flowers. No more Spring. Or Summer. Or Fall. Or even Winter! I wish I had appreciated my life on Earth more now that it’s been stolen from me. Of all the powerful and beautiful witches that could’ve been plucked out of the mortal world- why did he pick me?</p><p>It almost feels less like he picked me and that my rotten luck forced his hand to bring this upon me. </p><p>I hear something outside the door.</p><p>A high-pitched weary voice asks, “Are you ready, Your Majesty?” </p><p>Fuck. Nope! I’m still in nothing but black lingerie and garters without stockings. </p><p>“Uhhh… Just like ten more minutes!” I call back. </p><p>“... Yes, Your Majesty…” the voice returns with a mournful sigh.</p><p>The sadness in those words catches me off guard, “Are you… ok?” </p><p>There’s a pause. </p><p>“The King is a very impatient man, Your Majesty… Please don’t make me deliver the news that he will have to wait longer for his festivities…”</p><p>Shit. I always hated telling my boss to push back a deadline for me. I can’t imagine how bad it is when your boss is the King of Torture. “Uhh! Hang on!” I yell. </p><p>Quickly, I grab something that sparkles from off the rack. I slip into a floor-length glittering black, long-sleeve gown with a high neckline. Clawing at the zipper behind me I call out, “Hey! Would you actually mind coming in and zipping me up real quick?!”</p><p>“Uh… Your Majesty… I’m incorporeal.”</p><p>“You’re-- what?!”</p><p>“Incorporeal. Meaning I don’t have a physical form or-”</p><p>“-I know what incorporeal means...” I sigh, “I’m just not used to people being er- I just forgot where I was for a second…” </p><p>“I’m so sorry, Your Majesty,” the voice sounded deep and earnest. The disembodied voice was sorry for more than not being able to zip me up. </p><p>Hopping around, arching my back and twisting in all different directions, I finally get myself sealed into the dress. I cram my feet back into the pumps I wore for the ceremony and open the closet door. </p><p>For a second I’m confused. I can’t seem to find the attendant I was talking to. </p><p>“Over here, Your Majesty,” the high-pitched voice says from my left.</p><p>I now notice a flickering holographic form. It’s a young looking man in a traditional bellhop-type uniform. His hairstyle tells me he’s not from a recent era. </p><p>“Ah! Nice to… see… you…” I stutter out. Everything is so strange and foreign- I can’t even begin to guess what the proper pleasantries are supposed to be between an infernal Queen and her ghost attendant. </p><p>“Right this way,” he says and hovers quickly across the room.</p><p>“AH! Wait up! I can’t go that fast in these heels!”</p><p>He pauses and looks at me with curiosity, “Is there not a spell for walking comfortably in heels?” </p><p>My cheeks turn red and if my makeup wasn’t the best it has ever been- I would face-palm. “Uh- well- I- uh- I’m sure there is… I just- uh- don’t know that one…” I say looking sheepishly at the ground. </p><p>Truth is:  I never met my dad and I grew up with my mom who is mortal. My mom never even spoke of my dad. I was briefly part of a coven and I learned a couple spells as well as accidentally discovered some of my powers- but all in all- I rarely used magic. After my excommunication, I used magic even less. I tried to forget that magic existed altogether. I lived my life as normal and mortal as possible. I knew I would eventually have to hide my decreased-aging in later years but until then I was living as mortal as possible. So now- I’m rusty when it comes to being a witch.<br/>
The attendant nodded, “The use of magic for simple tasks is much more liberal here than it is on the Surface I would imagine.” </p><p>“Yeah,” I sighed as he began to lead me to our destination at a slower pace. “My mom called using magic for things around the house ‘cheating’ and I guess that just stuck with me,” I say punctuated with an unflattering snort at the end. </p><p>“I see, Your Majesty.”</p><p>It’s still a little weird being referred to as royalty. I definitely don’t hate it. It’s just- different. I search the attendant’s uniform for a name tag but there isn’t one. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”</p><p>“I don’t have one anymore,” he says dryly.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“When you’ve been down here long enough you begin to forget those silly little things.” </p><p>“Isn’t that - like - really confusing though? Like how do you communicate and differentiate when no one has names!”</p><p>“Now that you’re living here- you’ll find out very quickly that there’s a lot of things you're used to that don’t really matter down here. It might be confusing at first, but it will all make sense to you soon enough.”</p><p>My stomach starts flipping again. I’m LIVING here now. The Underworld. The land of the dead, damned and demons. My home. All the same place now. I attempt to squash the intense feeling before it overwhelms me. “Well- that sounds like bullshit- how about you pick out a name so I have something to call you by?”</p><p>He flickers faster as a look of shock appears on his face, “A name? I don’t know. I don’t even know what names are in fashion anymore, Your Majesty.”</p><p>“How about… Gary!” I blurt out as the butterflies intensify in my stomach. We are approaching a set of large double doors with two beasts guarding it.<br/>
“Gary?” he says with a hint of fascination. “Is that a popular name on the Surface these days?” </p><p>“Uh… yeah! Sure!... Definitely…” my hands instinctively claw at my middle as if I could tear through my skin and release the butterflies to abate the pain. But I suck in a steep breath as the cuts on my hands start to scream. “Gary… Can I tell you a secret?”</p><p>“Uh, yes Your Majesty. Of course.”</p><p>“I’m really fucking scared of whatever is on the other side of that door!” I writhe in place as we stop short in front of the guards. </p><p>“You should be.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Helluva Reception</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The guards open the doors to a crowded ballroom with vaulted ceilings. I look to Gary for direction but he has disappeared. I turn to the guards but they are already closing the door behind me. <br/>“Shit. Where do I go? What am I supposed to do?” I whisper to myself. You would think the new Queen of the Underworld would get some kind of introduction or at the very least a turn of a few heads when I walked in- but nope! Nothing! Everyone is dancing with a trance-like focus and thoroughly involved with their own actions. </p><p>My gaze catches on a large throne of bones and obsidian on the opposite side of the ballroom. The King’s dark eyes meet mine across the distance. His sullen face rests against his fist and he looks bored- or angry- or indifferent- or any combination of those emotions! He’s impossible to read. With a wave of his hand the crowded ballroom parts like the Red Sea in front of me. The music has stopped and the guests have stopped dancing. All of them are watching me now.</p><p>I guess that’s my cue?</p><p>Painfully slow, I wobble in my heels towards the King. Why did I never study any windwalking spells? Or shoe spells? Or flying spells?! Damn my past self for not knowing that those are the most important spells in the world!</p><p>I crack a wry smile and laugh awkwardly trying to make light of my impossibly long promenade. </p><p>“Sorry!” I say instinctively and my words echo amidst the thick silence. </p><p>The King merely blinks in response. His face hasn’t moved. </p><p>When I finally reach him I bow at the foot of his throne and hope that he’ll tell me what’s next. </p><p>“Sit,” he commands and nods to the circular, plush red bed on the floor to the right of his throne.</p><p>“I-i-in there?” I ask softly. </p><p>“Is there something wrong?” he says with an edge in his voice.</p><p>“No! Not at all! I just wanted to make sure! That’s all!” I try to laugh it off but it seems to have no effect on the situation. </p><p>I settle in the glorified dog bed, propped up by one hand as I tuck my knees and try to sit as elegantly as possible in my gown. </p><p>The crowd in front of me is strange to say the least. A mixture of demons, sirens, nymphs, monsters and creatures of all sorts- but no witches. Or at least not any that I recognize. The crowd breaks into a coordinated dance. It's something between Burlesque, a Busby Berkley number and the “Be Prepared” scene from the Lion King. The performance is breath-taking, exotic, frightening, and a little erotic. My mouth is agape and I look to the King for his reaction… Nothing. </p><p>I’m not even sure he has flinched since the dance started. He still looks bored-angry-sad-disinterested or whatever that face is. </p><p>“This performance is unbelievable…” I say to him quietly. </p><p>He doesn’t turn to look at me, “Good.” </p><p>“Do you have ceremonies with big dance numbers like this often?”</p><p>He sighs heavily, “I hate ceremonies. And parties.”</p><p>“Oh!...” how the fuck am I supposed to respond to that. I’m not even good at small talk in the first place! So naturally all I can think to say is, “I’m sorry…”</p><p>He pulls his head away from his fist and looks down at me, “I never want to hear you say the word ‘sorry’ ever again,”</p><p>“Sor-” I suck in the apology quickly and my heart starts racing. I have to look down at my lap to find reprieve from the heat of his intense gaze. I can’t bring myself to look up at him. Part of me fears I won’t even last a week as his bride before he gets tired of me damns me to a pit of torture. I am WAY underqualified for this position and my superior happens to be the most powerful being from the Underworld.</p><p>He terrifies me to my core. Before I was plucked from my life on the Surface, I questioned if the King of the Underworld was even real. Sure- magic is real, witches are real, and there are the occasional encounters with mythical beings on the Surface. But until the Council of Covens called for help to the Underworld- the witch world had fallen away from the teachings of the Underworld and the beings that inhabited it. Through tales of necromancy in the coven community, I knew that the Underworld was a place that housed spirits after death. But I always just thought of the King as more of a concept or an old myth rather than a physical entity. </p><p>Speaking of physical… the King of the Dead looked nothing like I imagined. I suppose he has multiple forms or whatever but I fully anticipated a goat-man or a horned-giant with a tail. But he is none of those things. He has pale skin with sunken dark rings around his eyes. I guess you can’t get much sun or sleep being underground and surrounded by the dead all the time. His eyes are a dark brown almost black in certain lighting. But I saw them light up red once or twice during the ceremony. His dark hair falls in curls around his crown. His nose looks like it’s been broken once or twice- if that’s even possible- but it has a brutish quality. As for his jawline, it probably could’ve cut my palms better than the stygian blade. He’s tall and broad-shouldered. Tonight he’s wearing a velvet black royal suit with silver skull detailing on the cuffs of his sleeves. </p><p>I expected him to be uglier… but he’s… alright looking. But his skin was ice-cold to the touch when he held my wrists and spilt my blood. If it weren’t for his broad, muscular build- I’d describe him as a walking corpse. But like a handsome one??? </p><p>I shake the thoughts out of my head. I don’t even want to think about if I’m attracted to him enough to consummate. </p><p>The sirens that helped me prepare for the ceremony told me horror stories of the King’s physical appetite. Over the centuries he’s had a little bit of everything- harems, playthings, prostitutes, slaves. They said he invented lust and every kink or fetish that has ever existed. They said he goes through phases- some worse than others. He’s had to resurrect powerful beings that died of exhaustion just trying to satiate his desires.</p><p>The sirens laughed at me with their glass-ringing voices, “You poor little witch. His boredom with you just might save your life tonight!”  </p><p>But in all the King’s history, he has never done two things: monogamy or marriage. The court of Pandemonium was shocked enough that he took a bride and I have no illusions that he’ll remain monogamous in our political marriage. </p><p>Once again, my stomach starts churning and I feel my cheeks burn hot as the fear and expectation of tonight floods my mind. I absentmindedly begin to fan myself with my hand, as if that would make the excess blood drain from my face. </p><p>“If you’re feeling warm here, you should stay far from away from the ninth circle,” the King says dryly. </p><p>Did the stone-faced King just crack a joke? </p><p>In any other instance, I would’ve laughed politely. But my heart starts racing at the reminder that the Underworld is my home now. For the rest of my days I will be living closer to the ninth circle than to a McDonald’s. I start to hyperventilate a little. But the thing about hyperventilating is that it never stays “little” it feeds on itself and tumbles, gaining momentum like a snowball rolling down a hill. The more you fear having a panic attack the worse your panic attack becomes. I try my best to hold it in and keep my composure in front of the King. But when he glances in my direction there’s no hiding my display of misery and distress. My fear of the King’s wrath for this emotional outburst strikes my heart like a bolt of lightning. The air leaves my lungs like a punctured balloon. </p><p>The world goes dark.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Faint of Heart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I wake with a scream in a canopy bed with fluffy white comforters. My surroundings are completely unfamiliar and I am disoriented. </p><p>“Where the hell am I?!” I shout. </p><p>“Hell,” a soft voice says off to my right. </p><p>I scream again at the sight of an ash tree nymph sitting in a chair at the other end of the room. “Who are you?! Why are you here?! Why am I here?! What time is it?!” I pant. </p><p>The nymph buries her face in her soft green hands and her pointy ears flatten back. She takes a deep breath before saying, “You can call me… ‘Mel’...  and I was sent here to watch you until you woke up. You fainted. And time isn’t very important down here- at least not for you. But I’d say it's been…” she pauses and looks to her wrist even though she isn’t wearing a watch, “16 hours or so?”</p><p>“16 hours!!” I yell, “It’s a whole different day?!” </p><p>“In Surface time… yes… again, that hardly makes a difference for someone in your position.”</p><p>My heart falls into my feet- my position! It’s not a nightmare. It’s real. I’m the Queen of the Underworld for better or for worse. “But wait! Then last night did he-”</p><p>“-Nothing happened,” she says cutting me off before another panic attack took hold. “He may be the King of the Dead but that doesn’t mean he wants to fuck inanimate, unconsenting corpses. He has some standards.”</p><p>“Oh.” My lungs start to settle into a softer breathing pattern. “Good. And where am I exactly?” </p><p>“A guest room in the King’s dwelling. He thought it would be best to have you recover somewhere comfortable.” </p><p>“Is he … mad at me?” I ask with bated breath. </p><p>She throws up her hands, “Who knows?! I’ve worked for him for the past 800 years and I still can’t read his mood!” </p><p>I feel a wave of relief. At least I’m not the only one that can’t pick up on what he’s feeling. “I’m sure he’s upset that I didn’t participate in the rest of the festivities though…” </p><p>“Oh- no- trust me. As soon as your lights went out he was content to send the crowd packing. He hates hoopla and formalities. If anything you did him a favor by cutting things short.”</p><p>“... But what about like the… consummation part. Was he upset about that part?” </p><p>She shrugged, “Probably,” her tone was indifferent but the glint in her eyes was sympathetic. “I think some of the bolder beings in his court gave him a hard time about it… I saw some mutilated bodies hanging in the courtyard and his morning meeting was noticeably smaller.”</p><p>My eyes grow wide at this new information, “You don’t think that he’ll like- punish me the same way do you?”</p><p>She shook her head, “In my experience, he would’ve done something by now. And he certainly would not have sent me to watch you sleep if he were planning to kill you when you woke up. He would’ve sent his loyal dog Cerberus to do that job… As you can probably tell- I’m not exactly the King’s number one hitman- I’m just one of his castle assistants. I make sure things around the house are running smoothly while he works.”</p><p>“Oh, ok… good I guess. Is he working now then?” </p><p>“So many questions!” she rolls her eyes a sarcastic annoyance. “Yes, of course he’s working now. He’s a workaholic. More times than not- I promise you the answer to that question is ‘Yes.’”<br/>“And what do I do now?”</p><p>“Probably my job to be honest… but we should check in with the boss first. He’ll want to see you now that you’re awake.”</p><p>Mel helps me navigate the confusing and overwhelming estate. She brings me back to the powder room and walk-in closet that I used yesterday. </p><p>“So, is all this stuff like… mine?” I ask as I sift through the clothes for something to wear. How I got out of my evening gown from last night and into a nightgown-  I don’t want to know. <br/>“Duh,” Mel says between grit teeth and plops on one of the couches. “Damn, I wish my closet was a whole room. I guess there has to be some compensation for being married to that monster.”<br/>I put on a black sleeveless lace dress and ruby red flats. I resist the urge to click my heels like Dorthy. I know there’s no going home.</p><p>Mel gives me a brief driving tour around the city of Pandemonium. I didn’t expect it to be as big as it was… or as modern? Buildings have architecture from all different eras yet are maintained in pristine condition and have technologically advanced features. I’m surprised to see a mystical city still using some creature-comforts from the Surface. </p><p>We arrive at a contemporary-looking “sky-scraper” and strut into the lobby. The receptionist gives me a keycard. A silver one which is apparently the maximum security color. We take an elevator to the top floor. My heart pounds fast the closer we get to the top. </p><p>The doors slide open and my heart skips a beat when I see him. He’s sitting at his desk with his head in his hands looking at paperwork. The elevator ding nor the sound of our footsteps walking towards him is enough to get him to look up. </p><p>“Your Majesty,” Mel says with a curtsy. Her tone changes quickly from sarcastic to reverent. It occurred to me that she’s the only one who hasn’t treated me like royalty since I got here. She just treated me like a friend. Whether she was supposed to or not, I’m glad she didn’t give me the monarchy treatment. I could use a confidant that gives me the straight truth. <br/>The King glances up at us, “Good. You are dismissed.” </p><p>Mel spins on her heels and marches back to the elevator and I begin to follow. </p><p>“Not you,” his voice deepens. </p><p>I stop short and quickly wipe the look of fear off my face before turning back towards him. </p><p>“Sit.”</p><p>My hands fumble to pull a chair out from the other side of his desk. I keep my eyes trained downward towards the stack of papers in front of him. I’m too afraid to look into his eyes. In my peripheral vision I can only see him from the chin down. Desperately, I try not to shake. I haven’t felt this way since being sent to the principal’s office in high school for punching a guy. </p><p>“Do you often faint at the sight of dancing?” he asks. </p><p>I shake my head. </p><p>“Did you purposefully work yourself up to avoid certain… obligations?”</p><p>I shake my head again but I’m afraid that he won’t believe me and a little tear rolls down my cheek.</p><p>He laces his fingers together and leans back in his chair. </p><p>“Of course. And you would never do anything to intentionally embarrass me- yeah?” </p><p>“N-n-never, Your Majesty.”</p><p>“Hm.” The King stands up out of his chair and walks to the floor-to-ceiling windows behind his desk, gazing at his kingdom. “You're afraid of me, aren’t you?”</p><p>Uh. Yes. Yes. A thousand times yes. But if he sees through my lie- I’ll certainly have to pay for it. I open my mouth but no words come out. Only stutters. </p><p>He sighs, “You should know that anyone else in your position would have been dead by now for embarrassing me in front of the council. It made me look weak to spare you from continuing the ritual… I had to quell the rising insurgents with swift and unforgettable force.” He strolls towards my side of the desk and stands directly behind me. The hair on the back of my neck stands up and I don’t dare turn around. He bends down and I can feel his breath on my ear. He whispers close, “Why would I marry for the first time in my ancient existence just to throw you away? It wouldn’t make any sense… That being said- why would I remain married to someone that denies me…” His heavy hand falls onto my shoulder and I jump in my seat.</p><p>“I-I-I-I promise I wasn’t trying to deny you! And I would never try to embarrass you either! It was an accident!” </p><p>He saunters back to the window and looks out as he fiddles with the cuffs of his sleeves, “I suppose it’s natural to fear the King of Death, especially for a Surface-dweller. And I bet you’ve heard all sorts of stories and lies about me. It would be unfair of me to expect you to-... It would be unfair of me to not give you the same opportunity I had to get to know you first.”</p><p>“What? What do you mean?”</p><p>“You may have met me for the first time yesterday… but I’ve known you your entire life.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Call Me By His Name</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The King dismissed me shortly after his ominous statement. When I reach the lobby, Mel is waiting for me. </p><p>“You’re alive?!” she says sarcastically. “So, am I fired?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Did he give you my job?”</p><p>“No. Was he supposed to give me a job?”</p><p>“He didn’t mention anything to me specifically- I just figured since he’s been so swamped with work- you know with the whole housing epidemic and the ghouls and the overcrowding in the eighth circle and the shit with his brothers-” she stops short when she sees my look of confusion. “You don’t know about any of this stuff do you?”</p><p>“No! Not at all! I wasn’t completely sure this was even a physical place last week! Of course I’m not up on all the fucking politics!” I shout. </p><p>Mel combs her fingers through her long luscious locks and ponders for a moment. “I guess-  I guess I shouldn’t overwhelm you with the minutiae for now. But long story short- the Underworld infrastructure is struggling and I assumed that he would give you my job and I’d have to work with the other nymphs at the river Styx.”</p><p>“Oh-”</p><p>“But that’s fine with me!” she says throwing her arms up. “The longer I can avoid working at the shore the better!”</p><p>Mel takes it upon herself to show me around the Underworld some more. It’s still hard to believe that this is my new reality. While the city isn’t entirely different from a city on the Surface- the surrounding areas look terrifying. </p><p>“Stick to the city,” Mel tells me, “I’ve lived here my entire existence and even I am too afraid to venture to the outer edges of the Underworld.”</p><p>For dinner, I am instructed to go to the King’s private dining quarters. I sit at the smaller chair at the end of a long table. A feast is laid out before me- but the King is absent. The food is tantalizing, but I resist the urge to start eating before my husband arrives. I don’t know much in the way of manners but I know that it’s impolite to start a meal without the King. </p><p>After the longest ten minutes of my life, I hear the doors burst open behind me. Instinctively, I turn to see who it is, but the second I catch sight of the King and his glaring red eyes I whip back around and stare at the table. </p><p>The King plops at the head of the table and starts digging in without so much as a word. I hesitate. </p><p>“You may eat,” he growls. </p><p>We eat in uncomfortable silence.</p><p>I attempt to break the ice and ask, “H-h-how was work today, Your Majesty?”</p><p>He grumbles with a mouthful of food. As he swallows I watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down his pale throat. “You don’t have to call me that…” he says under his breath, “at least not all the time…” </p><p>“Oh… What would you like me to call you then?” I keep my voice soft and gentle. I don’t want to rock the boat.</p><p>“My name is- well, names aren’t really all that important down here… It’s not important.”</p><p>“Yeah, Gary told me something similar on the way to last night’s reception.”</p><p>“Gary?”</p><p>“Oh- yeah- I named one of your ghost attendants ‘Gary’…”</p><p>“I see.”</p><p>The conversation halts. But gingerly, I press forward, “I would love to call you by your name if that’s something you would like…”</p><p>His fork pauses on the plate but he doesn’t look up. He takes a deep breath, “It’s---”</p><p>The sound that followed reminded me more of a snake hiss than a name… it didn’t even sound like a language! </p><p>“Pardon me, could you repeat that?”</p><p>He still wouldn’t look at me; he just shook his head, “It’s not worth it. It’s in an ancient tongue that no one but my family speaks anymore.”</p><p>“Ok.... But is there any other name you would like to go by?” </p><p>He lets out a long breath through his nostrils, “No one but my family uses an informal name with me. I don’t know what to tell you.”</p><p>“What if we chose a name. One that only I will call you- Uh- when it’s appropriate of course.”</p><p>He lets the thought roll around for a moment, “Alright. But I’ll choose the name. I don’t trust your choice of names. Never in a million years would I let someone catch my wife calling me ‘Gary.’”<br/>A genuine smile spreads across my face. Maybe they were wrong. Maybe he’s not a monster. </p><p>“How about… ‘Tom,’” he says. </p><p>“Tom,” I repeat with a nod. </p><p>“Yes, ‘Tom’ -just like that halfwit actor you had a crush on back when you lived on the Surface,” there's a tinge of anger in his voice. </p><p>“W-w-what?”</p><p>His jaw tightens a little, “Don’t lie to me.”</p><p>“I’m not- I’m just a little confused by how you-”</p><p>“-Like I told you earlier. I know you.”</p><p>I let a pregnant pause pass before I ask, “Are you sure you would like me to call you, ‘Tom’?”</p><p>“Yes,” he says dryly, “Don’t question me again. You won’t be seeing him anymore anyway. At least not until it’s his time. And when it is his time-” he stops abruptly and chuckles maniacally to himself. </p><p>Poor earthly Tom… But at least he gets to live a happy mortal life on the Surface for now. I’m stuck here. The pit of my stomach aches with homesickness. </p><p>“Did you find the guest bedroom last night suitable?” he asks as he throws down his utensils and tosses a napkin onto his plate. </p><p>“Yes! It was perfect! Thank you so much, sir!” I say as graciously as I can. </p><p>He stands up, “Good. Now, I will show you to our bedroom.”</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Hard Day's Night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>NSFW in this chapter. Very Sultry. Very Steamy. The slow build is only just starting!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I follow him to the most extravagant bedroom I have ever seen. The bed is the size of two California King beds put together. I wonder why anyone would need so much room to sleep but then I remember--- polyamory. The bed frame has black spires like a dark church. The sheets are black silk and the throw pillows are a rich red. It looks like a teen witch’s pinterest board. Then I notice some chains that dangle off the interior of the spires. They look more functional than decorative…</p><p>All at once the candles that surround the room ignite and for a split second I worry that it was me. I am so used to holding in my gift of pyromancy- it still frightens me when things happen involuntarily. But it wasn’t me this time, how could I forget that I am with the most powerful being in the Underworld. To say my witch powers are a watered down version of his is an understatement. </p><p>“No, this isn’t the sex dungeon,” he grumbles. </p><p>“W-what? Did you just read my-”</p><p>“-I didn’t have to. It’s the question everyone wants to know when they get a tour of the castle,” he starts to stroll slowly around the room. “The sex dungeon is in a secret location- this room would hardly qualify as a ‘sex dungeon’ even by the tame standards of Surface BDSM… This is just my- I guess now ‘our’- bedroom.”</p><p>I nod as I continue to take in my surroundings. I am afraid to touch anything. Everything looks ancient, valuable and like it could potentially have a curse bound to it. If there’s one thing I retained from my teachings in the coven, it’s that if it looks old and creepy… don’t fucking touch it.</p><p>“And I won’t read your thoughts,” he says as he adjusts a painting on the wall. “Contrary to popular belief on the Surface- I am not the King of Lies either. I despise lying. I will use trickery if the situation demands it. But that’s all you Surface-dwellers seem to remember- the few choice times in history when the situation was dire enough for me to use manipulation.”</p><p>He walks towards me and I start to tremble.</p><p>This might be it. Goodbye cervix. My pelvis is about to get shattered by the original monster of the Underworld. He’s only had about a bajillion years of experience and apparently has insatiable desires! This is it. I’m dead. </p><p>The only question is- will that even be the end of it? If his dick kills me, should my spirit just show itself out and hang with Gary for eternity? Would he bother to resurrect me? What level of punishment will I receive for rejecting my witch roots during my physical life? </p><p>I brace myself and wince as he gets closer. </p><p>He strokes my cheek with the back of his index finger, “Why don’t you make yourself more comfortable?” he whispers. </p><p>I briefly glance up into his eyes and when I do they begin to burn red like embers. I look back down at the floor and walk over to the bed. I run my hand along the sheets and it's the finest silk I have ever felt. I glance over my shoulder and see that he is still watching me. Slowly, I slip out of my shoes and place them to the side of the room. I am taking my sweet old time just to delay the inevitable for as long as possible. </p><p>I reach one hand behind my neck to start unzipping my dress but I’m not very flexible in that way and it shows. I get it down as far as I can before I start reaching around my back the other way to grab it. The more I struggle the hotter my cheeks get and the more flustered I feel. I’m trying to remember a spell- just any old spell!- that might help me in this awkward situation. I try a spell that I vaguely remember and blue sparks fly out of my fingers but nothing comes of it. </p><p>“Still not used to using your magic again, hm?” he says in a low tone. </p><p>“Yeah…” I say as I still grab at my back and stare down at my deathbed. “I’m sorry this is taking me so long!”</p><p>The King clicks his tongue sharply and all the candles in the room flare brighter for a second. “I told you never to say that word again,” he growls. “I will not tolerate disobedience. This is your last warning…”</p><p>I bite my tongue as the urge to apologize again is overpowering. He disappears and teleports directly behind me. I let out a small gasp and freeze. I can feel his breath on my neck as his body gets closer to mine. </p><p>He grabs the zipper of my dress and yanks it all the way down in one fell swoop. The structured material peels away from my skin and sinks to the floor. </p><p>A chill down my spine gives me goosebumps.</p><p>Slowly, he puts his hands on my waist. Involuntarily, I jump forward from his icy hands. </p><p>“I didn’t mean to deny you, Your Majesty!” I say recovering quickly, “I just didn’t expect your hands to be so cold…”</p><p>My body shakes more vigorously as I wait for his reaction. </p><p>His hands fall to his sides, “You’re still afraid of me,” his voice is devoid of tone.</p><p>“I’m afraid of disappointing you, Your Majesty.”</p><p>“You’re afraid of disappointing me… because you’re afraid of me.” He lets out a heavy breath and takes a step back. “You can access your powder room through the portal in the full-length mirror. There should be plenty of nightgowns,” his voice lowers.</p><p>“Yes, Your Majesty…” I say quietly. Am I being spared? Is he mad at me? I didn’t deny him! I was as compliant as I could physically manage! </p><p>I walk towards the full-length mirror and peak over my shoulder at the King. He hasn’t moved an inch but his eyes are still glowing as they follow me walking away.</p><p>I step through the portal and appear through the full length mirror in the powder room. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding in. I unclasp my bra and slip out of my panties. Some of the nightgowns I find in the drawer are really intricate and beautiful- albeit in a man’s fantasy sort of way. I imagine the King gave his assistants very specific orders for the type of clothes to stock my dresser with. I can tell he has a fascination with different textured fabrics and of course- an affinity for the colors red and black. I choose the most modest nightgown I can find- he instructed me to get comfortable after all. I throw on the black silk camisole gown with the lace trim before I step through the mirror again. </p><p>The King, still in his suit, is pacing in circles around the room.</p><p>“Wouldn’t you like to change into something more comfortable?” I ask him softly. He stops pacing and looks up at me. His eyes study my form in the nightgown I’ve chosen. The embers in his eyes slowly ignite again. </p><p>I walk to the opposite side of the bed. It’s taller than I expected and I have to use the baseboard as a stepping stool to mount on top. He stares blankly at me from the other edge of the bed. <br/>On my hands and knees, I crawl towards him. The sheets feel cool to the touch but slick, “It’s hard to gain traction on silk,” I whisper nervously to myself. </p><p>I kneel, sitting back on my heels and let my knees fall open in relaxation. I force myself to look up at his face, “Your Majesty, this bed is amazing. You have great taste,” I say gently. </p><p>His face is blank but his gaze wanders to the space between my legs. My short nightgown is creeping up my thighs and I am exposed. Embarrassed, I quickly press my knees together and pull at the edges of my garment. I try to laugh off my embarrassment but when I glance up at him again his face shows no emotion although his eyes are burning a little brighter. My eyes flit away quickly. </p><p>“I should get back to work,” he grumbles. </p><p>“Work?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“But it’s late. Shouldn’t you rest?”</p><p>“You’re still used to Surface time. Time is far less relevant down here and I have too much to do.” He turns and walks to the door.</p><p>“Oh- okay,”</p><p>His hand is on the handle and he pauses, “You might still think of me as an unlovable monster. But you don’t hate me. If you hated me, you would’ve worn panties to bed.”</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Hell Has Coffee</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>What the King said kept me tossing and turning. Part of me was so embarrassed and ashamed that I accidentally exposed myself to him. But a small part of me felt kind of exhilarated by catching the King’s attention. In bed, I reached between my legs and it felt slick with arousal. How can someone so terrifying and somewhat repulsive elicit such a primal reaction from me?</p><p>When I wake up I am overwhelmed with attention from ghostly attendants eager to please me. They’re sweet and I can tell that they are used to being yelled at by the King because they are surprised when I answer them nicely. But it’s all just a little too much right now. </p><p>So, I decide to sneak out and wander the streets of Pandemonium by myself. </p><p>The eternal night is hard to get used to and the vitamin D deficiency is getting real. I quickly realize that most people don’t recognize me as the Queen outside the castle. </p><p>I stop inside a coffee shop. Who knew the Underworld had coffee? I pick up a newspaper called, “The Infernal Times” and sit with a mug of Morning Star hot coffee. The royal wedding is front page news… but there aren’t any pictures. In fact, they don’t even mention my name. I am simply referred to as “the witch bride.” That would explain why no one has called me “Your Majesty” since I left the estate. But why so secretive? Is he-- ashamed of me? I wouldn’t blame him! I know I certainly wouldn’t have picked me as a first choice bride. </p><p>“Excuse me, miss. Is this seat taken?” a low baritone voice rumbles. </p><p>“Nope! Go right ahead!” I say waving a hand dismissively without looking up from the paper. When I reach the end of the article, I glance up at the specimen across the table from me and my heart skips a beat. He isn’t a spirit and he looks human! </p><p>His skin looks tanned and warm. He has deep blue eyes and strong brows that wrinkle together as he reads his copy of the paper. His dark curly hair reminds me of the King’s. Only this man’s hair is less styled and the curls fall loose on his forehead. He’s wearing a white collared shirt and a red tie is loosened around his neck. </p><p>In the week or so that I’ve spent here he’s the first person that actually looks… alive. Or at least that’s what I tell myself when he catches me staring with my jaw hanging open like an idiot. </p><p>He laughs to himself and glances back down at the paper, “The name’s, ‘Nick,’ by the way,” he smirks. </p><p>“Oh- hi- yeah-” I stutter, “I’m- I’m- Y/N.”</p><p>“That’s a pretty name,” he says folding up his newspaper. “I assume that you’re not… from here…” his hands gesture at the general vicinity. </p><p>“No,” I look down at the table, “I’m not… what gave it away?” I laugh. </p><p>“Nothing born down here could ever be as beautiful as you,” he smiles. </p><p>I start to blush at his compliment. The standards down here must be really low if I stand out as a catch! I try to counter the compliment, “Then you must not be from around here either.”</p><p>“Ooo,” he says leaning back in his chair, cocking his head to one side, “You’re very forward!” he teases. </p><p>My twelve seconds of flirtatious confidence left my body and now I feel stupid. So, I backpedal, “I didn’t mean like that!” I protest, “I just meant that you look al--- like you’ve seen the sun recently and… you’re not a monster…”</p><p>“I guess that depends on who you ask!” he laughs. He gestures to my copy of the newspaper, “So what do you think about that royal wedding?”</p><p>“Oh- I- uh-” I stutter. Royal wedding. My wedding. Big bad scary husband that can torture my soul for eternity. Those deep blue eyes and that laugh made me forget about all that for a second.</p><p> “Yeah, I don’t know- whatever makes him happy I guess,” I shrug.</p><p>“Well, I personally don’t really care about the King’s happiness. He’s been around since ancient times. If he hasn’t found happiness in a lover yet- then I don’t think it’s something he’s capable of,” he sighs and takes a sip from his mug. “I do feel sorry for his witch bride though. Being bound to him as a sacrifice must be worse than the ninth circle.”</p><p>“Is he really that bad?” I ask. “I hear a lot of talk but-”</p><p>“-He is,” Nick cuts me off quickly. “You can’t live as long as he has and still have compassion for mortality or the lower rank beings that run Pandemonium. He is the judge, jury and executioner down here and he doesn’t take advice from anybody. He’s a loner for a reason… no one can stand him. Not even his own family.” </p><p>“Oh, that makes sense I guess…” </p><p>Nick glances down at his wrist watch, “Shit. I got a meeting across town in ten minutes. Do you come to this coffee shop often?”</p><p>“Uh- what? I- uh,”</p><p>“Because I really enjoyed talking to you and I would love to see you again,” he says and I swear I can see a twinkle in those blue eyes. </p><p>“Yeah- uh- I come here… regularly. So- maybe I’ll see you again sometime!”</p><p>“Good. I’m looking forward to it,” he winks at me and slips out the door.</p><p>Yikes. What have I done! I can’t flirt with anyone! The King might be into polyamory but I doubt he wants his wife sneaking around his back when she hasn’t even let him kiss her yet. This was all a big mistake. But those eyes were so enchanting. It was hard not to get lost in them. </p><p>The King never has to know! And if I never come back to this coffee shop then it will be as if nothing ever happened and everything will be fine! </p><p>Feeling a little guilty I take a cab to the King’s office building. In the lobby, the nymph at the front desk confirms that he is available. So, I take the elevator to the top floor. </p><p>The doors open and as soon as I see the King I feel nervous. He said he wouldn’t read my thoughts… but what if he does and he finds out about my little flirtation with Nick at the coffee shop? My heart starts racing and I begin to think that coming here was a mistake. But there’s no going back now because the King has noticed my arrival. </p><p>I walk up to his desk and greet him with a bow. </p><p>“I didn’t summon you,” he says firmly. </p><p>“I-I-I know, I just was getting antsy in the castle and I thought I’d stop by to see… how you were doing…” I stare down at my feet, avoiding eye contact at all costs. </p><p>“Did you come here alone?” </p><p>“Yes, Your Majesty.”</p><p>“You should NEVER leave the castle by yourself. If one of my assistants can’t accompany you then at the very least you should take Cerberus.”</p><p>“I-I-I I didn’t know-”</p><p>“-This is Pandemonium. The streets are full of malevolent creatures and angry usurpers. If you walk down the wrong street or if anyone recognizes you-” he stops himself short. “Never leave the castle by yourself. I won’t be so forgiving next time.” His voice cuts so deep it brings a tear rolling down my cheek.</p><p>“I-I-I wasn’t thinking, sir. I won’t do it again.”</p><p>He sighs heavily and his tone softens, “It’s for your safety.”</p><p>“I-I know,” I say but I still can’t find the courage to look up at his face. </p><p>When dinner time rolls around, we eat in dead silence and I’m still afraid that he’s mad at me for leaving the castle unattended. I try my best not to think about Nick around the King. If he were to find out about my conversation with a handsome stranger- he would surely never let me leave the castle at all. </p><p>When the King finishes his meal, he throws his napkin down on his plate and leaves without a word. Quickly, I jump up and follow him as he walks to our bedroom. </p><p>Once we are through the double doors, completely alone, I try to touch him. Maybe if I throw myself at him, he will have some mercy… or at the very least get out of his sour mood. Timidly, I grab his bicep but before I can move any further he holds up his hand, gesturing for me to stop.</p><p>“Get in your nightgown,” he commands. </p><p>I tuck my head down and step through the mirror. </p><p>I put on the more modest gown I wore the night before… but this time I left my panties on. When I step back through the mirror, I am shocked to see the King already laying on his side of the bed with the candles put out. </p><p>He’s facing away from me as I climb onto my side of the bed and doesn’t so much as glance back to acknowledge me. After last night, I wasn’t sure if he ever slept. But I guess he just doesn’t sleep as much as I do?</p><p>The bed is so large, it feels as if we were sleeping in different rooms. This bed is the antithesis of intimacy. Maybe Nick was right. He’s a loner through and through. If he has never fallen in love in his whole lonely existence… maybe he wasn’t capable of it. </p><p>I can’t sleep and the stress of the day takes hold of my thoughts. Nick, my lack of freedom, living like a potato underground- all of it. An unbearable homesickness sinks in my gut. I miss the Surface. I miss my friends. I miss my job. I miss going to fucking Target and buying shit I don’t need! It all builds up until I can’t hold it in any longer and I let out a soft cry. I try my best to hold back the sniffling and the hyperventilating to stay as quiet as possible. The last thing I need is for the King to think I am an ungrateful wife. </p><p>“You miss the Surface,” the King says matter-of-factly. He sits up and the sheets fall to his lap, revealing his toned upper body. If I weren’t crying, I might’ve paused to appreciate his fitness. But to avoid confrontation, I turn away quickly hoping he won’t see my tears. </p><p>I hear him traverse across the silk sheets towards me and I stifle my sobs as best as I can. Suddenly, I feel his cold hand on my bare shoulder. I jump a little at the sensation and he pulls his hand away. </p><p>“I’ll take off work tomorrow,” he says. “We’ll visit the Surface for a few hours if that will make you happy.”</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Dat Trip</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I wake up to an empty bed but a note tells me to wear the outfit he has picked out for me and to meet him in front of the castle. Tight black patent leather pants, a white lace-front tank top, a studded black leather jacket and combat boots. He appears to be a big fan of black leather… and I don’t disagree… </p><p>I walk out the front doors of the castle to see the King mounted on a Ducati 1098 motorcycle… in his favorite color of course. Decked out in all leather, he runs his hands through his hair, slicking it back before putting on fingerless gloves. He holds his helmet out to me, “Are you coming or not?” he beckons. </p><p>I jog to him and take the helmet, “I- Uh- have never been on a motorcycle before…” I say nervously.</p><p>“Well, you don’t have much to lose these days now do you?” he replies. </p><p>“...Good point.”</p><p>This bike wasn’t built with two people in mind and I suppose that hasn’t really been a concern for him until now. The second seat is on the back fender and it looks like a simple speed bump could catapult me skyhigh. But like he said… I don’t really have much to lose. </p><p>I hop on behind him and he eyes me over his shoulder, “You should still hold on tight. Necromancy would really put a damper on the outing.”</p><p>“Oh!- Uh- right!” I say and place my hand on his hips. He revs the engine and speeds off. I scream a little and dig my fingers into his leather jacket as we bypass Pandemonium on the beltway. We cross the river on an empty ferry as a long line of souls wait on the other side. I realized this boat rarely takes people going this direction…</p><p>On the other side we speed through a long cave that ends at an industrial-sized elevator. The King slows down as we enter through the sliding doors and gives a nod to the ghost attendant. <br/>“Going up,” the detached voice murmurs. </p><p>Although there aren’t any windows for reference, the g-forces of the elevator feel impossibly fast as we climb to the surface. Exactly how far down is the Underworld anyway?</p><p>The doors open with a ding and the ghost attendant disappears. In front of us is the ground floor of a casino but no one seems to pay us any mind. </p><p>“An entrance to hell is in a casino?” I ask quietly. </p><p>“The entrance was here well before the casino,” he corrects. “Las Vegas itself formed around the chaotic energy emanating from the portal to the Underworld. Why else would the city of sin pop up in the middle of a desert?”</p><p>The King navigates slowly to the exit of the casino and the bright, hot Las Vegas sun sears my eyes. </p><p>“Oh, fuck!” I yell involuntarily as I shut my eyes tight and look down. “I forgot how bright the sun was!”</p><p>The King seems similarly affected by the brightness as he waits with his head down before continuing into traffic, “Sunshine is overrated,” he mumbles and puts on a pair of sunglasses from his pocket. “Now what do you miss most about the Surface?” </p><p>I pause to think, “... the people.”</p><p>“Humans?” he says with a little disgust, “Really?” The way he said “humans” catches me off-guard. Now that we are out of his domain- he looks no different than the surrounding mortals. The surface environment makes it so easy to forget that magic exists. </p><p>“...Yeah, they’re not perfect,” I reply, “But- that’s what I miss most.”</p><p>“Alright then…” he sighs. We cruise around the city and I take in the atmosphere. The hot sun on my neck, the cool breeze on my face, the foul smell of gasoline. </p><p>“Wait! Stop here!” I yell into his ear and pound his shoulder. He pulls over into the nearest crevice of street parking. “Come with me!” I shout, taking off my helmet and jumping to the sidewalk. <br/>I proceed to drag the King of the Underworld into a Tiffany and Co.</p><p>“What the bloody hell is this place?” he grumbles as a welcomed wave of air conditioning hits us over the threshold. Again, I nearly forget how strange this world must feel to him. Perhaps, this is my one chance to take the lead in this relationship and a gust of boldness washes over me. </p><p>“On the Surface,” I whisper to him. “People propose with an engagement ring and exchange wedding bands at the ceremony... I let you slit my palms and pour my blood into your binding book as per Underworld norms… But I want my Surface traditions too,” I hold my breath hoping he’ll oblige. </p><p>He nods, “Fine. We’ll do your mortal traditions… if it will make you happy…” he mumbles. </p><p>I pick out a ring with a white gold band and a black cushion cut diamond surrounded by refined rubies. Our matching wedding bands are solid obsidian. <br/>The King turns heads when he pays the jeweler with gold. </p><p>“... Maybe next time… we should pay with cash,” I suggest quietly. </p><p>Next, we drive through wasteland desert as I soak in the fresh air and piercing blue sky. I start getting used to holding my husband’s waist without shuddering. The devil isn’t so scary in broad daylight. </p><p>When the sun kisses the horizon and the wisps of clouds catch pink and purple light, we stop at a biker bar along the highway. </p><p>At the bar we order burgers and beer. Behind us, a biker gang plays a rowdy game of pool and beer wenches slam sloshing mugs of brew on cocktail tables. It’s nice to be around people again- having a good time-  and not being tormented for all eternity and such. </p><p>The King glances up from his plate in my direction, “You’re smiling,” he states.</p><p>I touch my face in near disbelief, but in this moment, nothing could wipe my genuine grin. “I guess I am…” I reply.</p><p>“I don’t think I’ve seen you smile like that since I brought you to the Underworld.” </p><p>“Oh-- uh…”</p><p>“It’s nice.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Contrary to popular belief, watching people suffer gets boring after a few millennia,” he smirks and takes a sip of his drink. It’s kind of cute. </p><p>A warm spark of pure joy ignites in my chest and before I know it I plant a quick kiss on the King’s cheek. </p><p>His skin is icy and something like an electric shock tingles on my lips. </p><p>The King’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise and he freezes. </p><p>“Come on! Let’s dance!” I say quickly to change the subject and jump off the bar stool.</p><p>“I- I don’t dance,” the King murmurs. </p><p>“What? Come on! It’ll be fun!”</p><p>“I don’t dance,” he states with finality, “You may dance if you wish.”</p><p>“Oh. Okay.” </p><p>Awkwardly, I make my way towards the jukebox where a couple of bikers have gathered. A few ladies invite me to dance in their circle and I breathe a sigh of relief as I begin to dance my cares away. </p><p>After a few songs pass, one by one the women pair off with one of the young, hot bikers in their clan. The dance floor heats up as more people join and the small space gets crowded. The patrons start gyrating and grinding against one another in the passion of the moment. I don’t mind dancing by myself but being the only solo on the floor is a little uncomfortable. </p><p>I take a step backwards and bump into a brick wall. </p><p>But no. </p><p>It’s not a brick wall. </p><p>“Excuse me, lass,” a deep baritone voice rumbles and strong hands clutch my waist to steady me. </p><p>I spin around to find a handsome biker in a red leather jacket and tattooed hands. </p><p>“Whoops! I’m sorry!” I shout over the din and begin to step away. </p><p>“Don’t be sorry!” he raises a pierced eyebrow and grins. “I couldn’t help but notice you were dancing alone and I came to join you,” he chuckles. </p><p>“Oh!” I reply stupidly, as a nervous blush rises in my cheeks. </p><p>“Just a little fun!” he reassures me, “I saw you with your boyfriend at the bar- if he won’t dance with you- someone should. I promise you- it’s nothing serious!” </p><p>“Oh, well- okay then! I guess it won’t hurt…” I say but I am still apprehensive. </p><p>I begin dancing with the handsome biker. It’s light-hearted and we chat as we dance face-to-face. He’s 29 and Scotish. He plays the drums for a local metal band and recently joined his motorcycle gang. He keeps his hands to himself but there are accidental brushes as others bump into us. </p><p>It’s all fun and games until I trip over my own feet and crash face first into his chest. His arms encircle me, saving me from falling further. He smells delicious, his heart thumps wildly against my cheek and heat emanates from his chest. He’s a living, breathing Surface-dweller. I nearly forgot what that felt like. </p><p>Suddenly, I’m ripped backwards out of the biker’s innocent embrace. My heart drops. It’s the King. </p><p>He jumps in front of me and growls at the biker, “What the hell do you think you're doing?” </p><p>Shock and disdain fills the blue eyes of the Scotsman, “We were just dancing!” </p><p>“You touched her,” he bellows. </p><p>“She tripped! I caught her! That was all! Maybe if you weren’t such a cunt and danced with her yourself-”</p><p>“-Watch your tongue, if you wish to keep it,” the King snorts.</p><p>“Please!” I interject, “It was harmless! It was nothing! Don’t hurt him!”</p><p>“It’s alright, lass. Your boyfriend doesn’t scare me,” the biker retorts and pulls down the collar of his jacket to reveal a distinct witch’s mark at the base of his neck.</p><p>The King chuckles humorously to himself and it sends a cold chill down my spine. “You have no idea who you’re messing with- do you, mortal?” Black smoke begins curling off the King and the smell of brimstone ruminates.  </p><p>“Mortal?” the warlock biker mumbles. </p><p>The King begins a quiet chant in his ancient language and blue hellfire begins to burn from his shoulders and he balls an orb of it in his hands.</p><p>“Please! Your Majesty! Don’t hurt him! It was my fault! I’m the one that’s clumsy!” I shout at his back. </p><p>Realization waxes onto the warlock’s face and he drops to his knees in fear and reverence, “I-I-I I’m s-sorry, Your Majesty! Please! Forgive my ignorance!” </p><p>At this point, all other activity in the bar has ceased and the patrons have cleared the dance floor. </p><p>“Please!” I plead, “Outing himself as a Warlock in front of all these people is punishment enough! Let him live!” </p><p>The King grunts through clenched teeth, “I’ll let him live. But only because killing him would make him more of a problem.” He turns to me slowly and I want to puke from fear as he reveals to me his true face of mangled flesh and sharp teeth. </p><p>I yelp when I realize that he noticed my disgust. </p><p>In the blink of an eye, his hand grips my throat and he drags me back to hell.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Omg. I didn't have the heart to let the Scottish biker die lol. I got too attached. I made him too handsome in my head! </p><p>This is the last update for a while. I hope to update again around Christmas time (mid-December 2020). Perhaps earlier though! It depends on if I can get my shit together to sit down and write. You know how it be. </p><p>Love you all - thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy future installments!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Devil's Mark</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Merry Chrimbus! Here's a chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I jolt awake and clutch my neck. I could’ve sworn someone’s hands were wrapped around it. But I’m alone. In a bed. Not the King’s bed. But the bed I woke up in after I fainted on our wedding night. </p><p>I see a shadow shift out of the corner of my eye. </p><p>I’m not alone…</p><p>The shadow staggers upright and shakes off his sleepiness. One head unfurling into three, as the lumbering beast turns six eyes in my direction.</p><p>Cerberus. The King’s dog. </p><p>Didn’t Mel mention that the King sends Cerberus to wake up the creatures he plans to kill? My heart thunders in my chest, as the pony-sized, red-eyed monster stretches into a downward dog. </p><p>It all comes back to me. Going to the Surface. Going to that bar. Dancing with that hot biker. What a mistake! All I had to do was be the Queen of Hell and give the devil what he wanted! </p><p>Now, I’m going to pay for my sins when I am eaten alive by 3 carnivorous mouths! </p><p>Cerberus leaps onto the bed and it nearly breaks. I scream, close my eyes tight and brace for impact. </p><p>But nothing happens.</p><p>I squint one eye open and a wet tongue drenches half of my face in slobber. Gross. Wiping my face with the sheets, I let out a sigh. He’s not here to eat me. </p><p>I walk towards a mirror portal to enter my dressing room but stop short when I see my reflection. A dark red handprint is stained across my throat. It didn’t hurt when the King gripped neck. There was pressure, but it was… calming. It made me go weak at the knees and that’s the last thing I remember before waking up. </p><p>Concerned with what the royal court would think, I slip on a black turtleneck and a patent leather skirt. </p><p>Exiting my dressing room, I practically crash into Mel and Cerberus on the other side of the door. </p><p>“Finally, Sleeping Beauty! Did you take an Ambien or something? Come on! We gotta go!” Mel shouts. </p><p>“Go? Go where?! Why?!” I retort. </p><p>She sighs with annoyance, as if it’s completely obvious, “The King wanted to see you right after his morning meeting and now you’re late!” </p><p>“What?! Well, I didn’t know he wanted to see me! That’s not my fault! And whatever happened to ‘time doesn’t really matter down here’?!” </p><p>“Yes- yes- yes- TIME doesn’t matter- but the King’s SCHEDULE matters,” she clarifies. </p><p>“What the fuck does that even mean? How can he keep a rigid schedule without time?!” </p><p>Mel groans, “Look- I don’t have time to teach you how immortal beings live right now. You’re just going to have to take my word for it. Okay? Follow me!” </p><p>Mel leads me to the cavernous cathedral-style throne room and Cerberus trails watchfully behind. </p><p>“Good luck,” she whispers, “Cerberus will be waiting for you right here.” The she pushes me through the double doors and they slam shut behind me. </p><p>The slam of the doors echoes in the practically empty room. The only other being is slouched on the throne with his head resting in the palm of his hand. </p><p>“Your Majesty,” I say and bow reverently. </p><p>“Come here,” he says without lifting his head. </p><p>I pause at the foot of the thrones platform with my head lowered. </p><p>“Closer,” he says impatiently. </p><p>I step onto the platform and he motions me forward until I am standing between his legs.</p><p>“Kneel,” he commands. </p><p>My eyes widen at the instruction but I drop to my knees without question.</p><p>“What are you wearing?” he grumbles. </p><p>I stutter in confusion, “I-I-I don’t know. I just threw something on from my dressing room. I didn’t see a note or--”</p><p>He waves his hand to cut me off, “Of all the clothes I have provided for you, why did you pick a turtle neck.” </p><p>“I-I-I just thought that--” I start.</p><p>“--That you would hide my mark,” he finishes for me.</p><p>Oops. I have offended him yet again and I don’t know how long I can evade being executed for disloyalty. </p><p>“I-I’m sorry. I thought that you would want me to conceal it in public.”</p><p>“Conceal it?” he leans forward, his face inches from mine, his dark eyes searing through me, “Why would I want you to conceal my mark? You belong to me, do you not?” </p><p>“Oh- of course, sir!” I say eager to please him, “I just- thought it was an accidental bruise or something- I didn’t realize that-” </p><p>“-It will fade away if that’s what you’re wondering.”</p><p>“-I wasn’t I was just-”</p><p>He leans back again, “You can’t leave the castle grounds until it does.”</p><p>“What?!”</p><p>“It’s for your protection. Most creatures down here revere my mark. But there are a few formidable usurpers out there that would do anything to hurt my rule. I have gone to great lengths to keep your identity hidden from the masses in the outer circles.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“But here, in my court, you will proudly display my mark on your body.”</p><p>“I understand, Your Majesty” I lower my eyes. </p><p>He leans towards me, grabs my jaw, and forces my eyes to meet his. The dark, soulless voids begin to burn red, “You’re lucky I didn’t choose to mark you the other way,” he says as a smirk crawls up his face.</p><p>A pulsating heat flares in my lower abdomen but I don’t know why. Am I turned on? How? Why? Because I shouldn’t be! Or at least, I don’t want to be.</p><p>He grabs the neckline of my sweater and rips it halfway down the front. </p><p>“Now, that’s better,” he mumbles and leans back to admire his work. </p><p>I try my best not to shrink away as the cold air hits my now-exposed cleavage. I can feel my nipples harden immediately beneath my bra. Is it from the cold or am I horny? I can’t tell. But then my gaze falls to the King’s lap. The fabric of his black slacks pulls taut around his crotch.</p><p> He leers down at me through heavy-lidded eyes as he bites his fist. </p><p>A wanton curiosity takes root when a catch a whiff of a raw and heady scent emanating from the King. I lean in closer to inhale more of it. It’s a natural scent yet it’s power over me is anything but.</p><p>I brace my hands on his thighs and a soft groan rumbles in his throat. His cock twitches slightly beneath the restriction of his pants. </p><p>It beckons me. </p><p>I move closer until my face is less than an inch away from his clothed erection. When I realize what I’m doing, my eyes widen and snap up to meet his glowing red gaze. The supernatural intensity of his gaze frightens me and I start to shrivel away from his lap but his hands clasp onto my forearms to keep me close. </p><p>I squeal and wince at the sudden strength of his grip. He says nothing and I can’t bear to look at him again. Part of me fears that if I glance back up, he’ll shift into that terrifying monster again. But then I remember-  he IS that terrifying monster. The handsome but sullen face he wears around me is just a mask. </p><p>I start to whimper, hoping that he won’t finally lose his patience with me.</p><p>He lets out a sigh. A cold hand moves to the nape of my neck and sends an electrifying chill down my spine, causing all the tension in my muscles to release. His other hand gently lays my head on his lap. With my cheek pressed against his thigh, he begins to stroke his fingers through my hair. It’s slow and rhythmic. Goosebumps run rampant across my skin at the tactile euphoria. A relaxed hum vibrates through my chest. I suddenly feel as if I could fall asleep right here and right now. </p><p>“I scared you. At the bar,” he says softly. “I didn’t want—- it wasn’t my intention.” </p><p>My eyelids feel heavy and flutter. </p><p>He clears his throat, “I brought you in here to tell you that my brothers will be visiting in the near future. And I need you … to act appropriately.” </p><p>“Yes, Your Majesty,” I murmur nearly entranced.</p><p>He yanks my head up by my hair and forces me to make eye contact. His stern face is a stark contrast to his tender touch just moments ago. “Do you understand what I’m asking you?”</p><p>“Y-yes,” I reply. </p><p>He shakes his head and clicks his tongue, “I’m not sure you do. They are powerful immortal beings… they don’t act like surface dwellers.”</p><p>“But- you’re immortal I-“</p><p>“-But they won’t see you as I do,” he sharply cuts me off and I jump a little. “They won’t be as pleasant… or forgiving.”</p><p>I gulp at the thought of the King’s treatment being considered “warm” by comparison. To be fair, he has been very forgiving of my transgressions and accidental insults to his pride. He didn’t kill the Scotsman either. He frightens me to my core but he has yet to really punish me. Although, I am certain this grace period will end soon. In fact, this visit from his brothers might mark the end of his patience. </p><p>“I can protect you from becoming their puppet but not much else,” he says. There’s a soft crinkle of concern in his eyes, “You will have to follow my lead and trust me.” </p><p>Trust the devil? That should be easy.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for your patience! The next chapter will be coming hopefully next week! Love you all! Stay tuned!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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